


The Southside Serpents

by sweetpca



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Headcanon, M/M, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, NSFW, NSFW topics, Open Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Slow Burn, Triggers, domestic life, southside serpents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-06-30 10:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpca/pseuds/sweetpca
Summary: a series of one-shot requests, headcanons and drabbles written by yours truly about the southside serpents from Riverdale. varying topics, NSFW warning included.





	1. WELCOME

Hiya! Thanks for clicking and being eager to read. I won't blather you with pleasantries and introductions - I write, you read, and we both enjoy the joyous wonders of the Southside Serpents. 


	2. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS:** none - just fluff  
>  **REQUEST SUMMARY:** A soft sleepy cuddly sweet pea fic  
>  **A/N:** as perviously mentioned, I don’t write x reader requests in the typical format. (this changes, give it time) hopefully this is okay and hopefully you enjoy!

The muted television illuminated the room with vivid colours, the news banner on screen circling across the bottom.  **BLACK HOOD STRIKES AGAIN.**  As much as I wanted to pretend that Riverdale was a happy place, full of _normal_ teens and _normal_ criminal violence, it was quite the opposite. Fathers were turning their backs on their own sons, the Southside was prepping for a riot, the Northside lived in a constant state of fear, each person walking with their head turned over their shoulder. It wasn't exactly the town with _Pep!_ that's for sure.  

Everyone was worried and on edge. Rightfully so, I suppose. I set my empty can of soda on the table and glanced over my shoulder to where Sweet Pea lay unmoving, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhale and exhale. My heart pulled in worry; I brought my fingers up to his forehead and brushed his hair to the side, “If you’re gonna sleep, might as well do it in your bed.” I said quietly, shaking his shoulder the slightest. “C’mon, Sweets. Don’t make me try to carry you again.”

“You did so well the last time,” he sighed, eyes still closed. “I believe in you.”

“You almost broke me last time.” I rolled my eyes and stood from the couch, leaning across the table to shut the television off. “Let’s go,” I said a little louder this time, pulling the small blanket off his lower half. “You’re gonna hate me in the morning if I let you sleep on the couch again, Pea. _Get up_.” when he didn’t move, I growled in frustration and gripped his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

I heaved as hard as I could; his shoulders and head just barely lifted off the couch despite using most of my strength. I tried again, digging my heels into the carpeted floor to gain some resistance. No luck.

Sweet Pea’s hands flipped quickly and gripped my wrists — I let out a squeal as I was pulled forward and down, crashing against his hard chest with the breath knocked out of me. Slowly, once he was certain I wouldn’t try to evade, he released his grip on my wrists and locked his arms around my shoulders and waist, resting his cheek against my forehead. “Shut up.” he demanded  tiredly, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch over our frames.

I waited until he had settled comfortably; his arm draped lazily over my hip, fingertips aimlessly caressing the exposed skin on my lower back. “This would be more comfortable in your bed.” I suggested quietly, snaking my arm under his shirt and across his stomach, relishing in his warmth.

He whined in protest.

“Just a thought.” I pointed out with a chuckle, eyes carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest, ear pressed against his heartbeat. It was all so intoxicating — his warmth, his gentle touch, the sound of his entire life beating erratically against my eardrum. I couldn’t help but smile to myself, completely in awe of how open our relationship had grown over the last few weeks. We spent a lot of time together, sleeping back to back, never fully touching or wrapped up in each other. It was a side of Sweet Pea I had always assumed never existed, simply because of how rough he was with everyone everyday.

“You  _really_  wanna move?” he asked, almost pained at the idea of having to muster enough energy to haul his ass the whole ten feet to where his bed nestled into the corner of the studio.

“If you insist on holding me prisoner, I would rather not be hanging off the edge of your sofa.” I mumbled in response.

Sweet Pea sighed, louder this time, and hugged my frame tightly. “Y’know, I’m not gonna have the balls to do this again if we move.” he said thickly, his cheek moving against my head.

I smiled to myself again, thumb rubbing the warm flesh of his hip. “Do what?” he didn’t respond verbally; instead he tightened his arms around me, holding me closer to his frame. “Aw, Pea.” I teased lightly, pulling my head back to look up at him, “C’mon.” I urged, sitting upright. He groaned, but followed suit nonetheless, lips pulled into a scowl as he lazily dragged his feet across the carpet.

His eyes, while barely open, opened a larger window of worry in my chest. Dark circles weighed his eyes down, making him appear more tired than I noticed initially. When my knees hit the edge of the mattress, I crawled into the corner and settled under the sheets. I peered to where he stood, watching the contemplation in his eyes. “Well?” I asked, opening my arms.

Slowly, as though he was still uncertain, he kicked his boots off, pulled his shirt over his head and crawled into the bed; he curled into my side, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck. I placed one hand in his hair, scratching his skull lightly as he other lightly pulled my fingertips along his spine. His body visibly relaxed under my touch.

“All you have to do is ask.” I whispered quietly, resting my cheek against his head. His arms tightened around my waist in response. Within moments, Sweet Pea’s breathing evened out and he began to snore quietly. For the first time in a long while, Sweet Pea managed to sleep throughout the night, completely undisturbed. I pressed my lips against his hair, “I’ll be here. Always.”


	3. YOU'RE SAFE NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS** : cursing, violence  
>  **REQUEST SUMMARY** : could you do a fic with severe angst at first where the readers boyfriend is beating her, then one day in public it gets super bad and sweet pea saves the day?  
>  **A/N** : there is ZERO romantic angst between sp and the reader in this fic, and it is centered around the saving and the medical aftercare of the victim. that is all. hope you aint pissed about it. ( _sidenote: Em Dominas is a fictional character made up for this specific request alone. I will likely not be adding her to future fics or to Bad Omen. Think of her as a south side medic that the Serpents call in favours to._ )

My body reacted in a way that seemed as though it was done fighting — which, frankly terrified me, seeing as I knew I couldn’t give up. The steel toe of his boot came in swift contact with my spine again, this time I rolled over onto my stomach, nails gripped deep into the dirt as I tried to pull myself up. This was pathetic — when did I ever let myself get into this? I tried with difficulty to keep my eyes open, my body all but crying out for some for of release. My skull ached, my body protested each movement I made but my soul burned with anger and fire.

“Are you ready to compromise?” He asked, words dripping with venom as he loomed over me. On my hands and knees, I looked up at him with blood smeared across my lips and my body shaking under my weight.

Mustering what energy I could, I laughed in spite of the pain and shook my head, “You can go to hell.”

He sighed before he grabbed my neck, his tight grip cutting off the rest of my air supply. David looked at me with some sense of disappointment, “Dumb bitch, I vacation there.” My fingers were already rapidly trying to pry his hand away from my throat, the lack of oxygen leaving my body writhing under his grip and vulnerable. How David loathed all things vulnerable — he had made a point of making it clear when we first started dating.

However, in the next moment, my limp limbs were discarded several feet away, watching as David was pulled back and thrown into the pile of leaves in which I lay mere minutes ago. Simultaneously, we glimpsed up in shock, eyes falling onto the broad skeleton of a slightly familiar face. He had come, body all but fuming with anger as he stared down at David and in front of me. Hands balled tightly into fists, and despite the obvious tension, I could tell he was trying very hard not to hurt David.

The man, and two of his very angry and very scary looking friends made their way into a crouch. All three had looks of pure disgust on their faces, their bodies leaned forward menacingly. For a brief moment, I felt as though I was about to witness my first murder, and regardless of my current physical situation, I internally groaned about the idea of being said witness to the murder of my abusive boyfriend.

“Pea!” A girl rushed out from the trees, hues blazing down at the scene in which she had entered and it was just shortly after she then turned her gaze upon my crumpled body. “Oh my god — ”

“What the hell — ” Another man, a much older man that seemed genuinely confused but prepared, came in after the girl and examined the situation, finally resting his eyes on mine. “Toni, get her to Em!” He snapped before he took off after David, who had taken off while the group had be momentarily distracted by the newest members arrival.

The girl, Toni, ran and landed on her knees beside me. “Hey, can you hear me?” She shook my shoulders, causing the throbbing in my head to increase and I groaned in protest. “Stay with me, everything’s going to be okay.” Although I knew just as much as she did that I had very little chance of ‘being okay’ after everything that had happened, I was mildly comforted by her words. “Tallboy, she’s slipping, I don’t know if I have time to get her to Em!” She patted my cheek with more force than necessary, “You need to stay awake, just keep your eyes open, alright?”

The coldness of the ground left, and suddenly it felt like I was flying. The wind passed my face, the cool air suddenly a blessing in disguise as I let my head fall back. “Just stay awake.” She kept repeating it, over and over, the sound of the ongoing fight fading further and further into the darkness.

In this moment, I knew what was happening. I was dying. I didn’t want to live, if I survived this, I would be in so much pain. And I’d be back with David, waiting for the next time I screwed up just to go through this again. I didn’t want that — no one wanted that, and yet it was all I had to look forward too.

After the cold, there was warmth. As hands worked to undo the clothing that clung to my weakened body, I began to drift out of consciousness. I couldn’t make much of anything after that. The last thing I remembered was my knight in shining armour ( _not so much, but in light of the situation_ ) entering the room, his face full of great sadness and worry before the darkness consumed my vision.

-

Perhaps this was heaven. There was no pain, no screaming, no smell of booze. It was incredibly comforting to be in a place where the room didn’t reek of last nights activities, so much so that I didn’t want to open my eyes. It was so, so peaceful. I moved my torso, in hopes of becoming more comfortable. A sharp jolt ran in a straight line down my back and I flinched, my eyes flying open with the abrupt pain. My lungs sucked in air, my throat trying to keep my noise to a minimum.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t in heaven. However the brightness of the walls resembled it greatly. I could see the green of the forest out of the large windows that encased the room, so I wasn’t too far from home. The room smelled strongly off metal and cleaning product — lemon, to be exact. I could hear the very low roar of a television and small talk between people somewhere off in the distance.

My eyes then drifted to the several tubes connected to my wrists and I noticed the mask that was pushing oxygen into my nose. It wasn’t a hospital, that much I was certain, but it sure felt like I was in one. I trailed my eyes down the length of my body, then to the man sitting in a chair by my legs. He was asleep, his large body twisted uncomfortably to make what he could out of the small area. The dark bags under his eyes told me that he must have spent a vast majority of his time awake and worried. He definitely seemed worried; his rest wasn’t peaceful. Brows had been pulled together for an awful long period of time, his mouth skewered down into an adorable pout. He must be wondering if I was alright — I would be wondering, too, if I had witnessed what he had.

The bigger part of me knew I should’ve let him rest, however I wanted to talk to him. I didn’t want to chance anymore pain, so I opted for using my voice. “H-Hey.” I could barely hear myself. I tried clearing my throat, which did harm to my head, but I tried my voice once again, “Psst.” I was satisfied when I saw his eyes flutter lightly. “You.” It still wasn’t the greatest volume, but it sufficed.

At the sound of my voice, his eyes opened slowly and he stared at me for a moment, as though he were drinking me in. “You’re awake.” He whispered. With a sudden burst of emotion, he was up and by my face, “Thank god, you’re alive — Em!” I cringed away when his voice boomed over the walls. “Sorry.” His happiness was easily replaced with a face of pure worry again, and I offered a reassuring smile in attempt to ease his worry.

“What is it?” This voice as much softer, more quiet. This, I appreciated. She looked at me, Em, and she smiled. “It’s about time.”

“She’s still in pain, she won’t move.” The man’s voice was somewhat upset with Em, as if he were blaming him for my well being. I hardly thought he was responsible — from where I sat, the blonde women looked rather put together and at ease with the situation, as though she had dealt with it before. Must have been a doctor —

And then it hit me.

“Dr. Dominas?” I asked, brows pulling together as I shook my head.

Em seemed to not notice my recognition, and she walked closer to me. “You remember me, that’s good.” She adjusted the bed so that I was sitting a little more upright, although it wasn’t without difficulty on my part. “That’s normal, Sweet Pea, you know as well as I that she’ll be in a great deal of pain for a while.” Em looked at me once more and smiled, “Everyone will be very glad to know you’re awake, we’ve been waiting for you.”

For a moment I was transfixed on the long awaited mention of my saviours name. Sweet Pea. Not at all what I had been expecting. I half expected Em to laugh and say ‘just kidding’ but the sincere looks on their faces gave zero indication this were a joke.

“Y-you have?”

She nodded, movements very sincere. I noticed that she seemed to make no sound when she moved and everything she did was very precise. It was a pleasant change of pace from the normal loud and boisterous environment I was used to. “I need to check your vitals and such, now that you’re awake. Eyes on my finger, please.”

I was taken aback by the sudden bright light she flashed, but I tried my best to keep my eyes on her finger. “How bad is it this time?” I slightly recalled this woman from the hospital. Several times, David had brought me in a said that I fell down stairs or I had gotten into a fight. Em Dominas had started to see me regularly, something I was sure she disliked as much as I did. It was always so bittersweet seeing her kind face.

She dropped the light as her face pulled into a grimace, “Might I add that I never believed for a moment anything that man said — David I mean. Other doctors noticed, too. He was very quick to get you in and very quick to get you out. Even though you were in pain, he rushed you.”

“She won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Sweet Pea said, standing against the wall.

I looked at him, voice raising in both question and concern, “What did you do to him?”

Another figure entered into the room, one whom looked much like Sweet Pea, however with a little less hair and less height. “The question should be, what didn’t he do to him? Sweets heard you scream and lost it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that quick in my life — and I’ve known him for years.”

I swallowed, “I-Is he—”

“Dead? _I wish_.” The man took his eyes off Sweet Pea and looked at me. “I’m Fangs, by the way.” He smiled, dimples showing in the hollows of his cheeks and it reminded me of a young boy.

I hadn’t noticed that Em had taken the IV from my wrist. “You can move,” She began, “And walk, but not without difficulty. I’d like to keep you here for a few more days just to make sure you’re recovery is going as planned.”

I was okay with that — if I meant that I was far and safe away from David. “Where exactly is here?”

Em smiled, “My home, of course.” Her home? Without question, I had been let into her home where she treated me personally and was offering to keep me on watch until I was fully recovered. While a part of me remained thankful for her hospitality, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps this wasn’t the greatest idea — intruding into her home like this.

I didn’t want to say anything, but where was I going after my recovery was done? I had no home — David was my home, and had been for quite some time. Both my parents passed away over a year ago in a tragic car accident on their way home from their annual honeymoon and David took me under his wing. Something much similar seemed to be in occurrence, and I opted to believe that perhaps this time I would make it out of this tragedy in one piece.

“You’re safe now.” Sweet Pea promised quietly from his place against the wall. He moved forward to place a gentle hand on my shoulder, and squeezed in reassurance.  



	4. BAD COMPANY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS:** cursing, smut  
>  **REQUEST SUMMARY:** a fanfic of sweetpea x shy northsider reader? where she helps take care of his wounds after the fight between archie?   
>  &  
> Post fight between the red circle and the serpents; sweet pea shows up at the readers door and confessed how much he likes her and SMUTTT   
> **A/N:** I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to combine these two together, but the basic plotline was the same. hopefully if smut isn’t your thing, you’ll be satisfied with the first half. there is a line put in to separate where the smut begins so if you prefer not to read you don’t have to and have warning! I did make it a little longer for this reason! also im really bad at shy anything bc im a firecracker sorry

You scrolled tiredly through the news column. Another day, another drama. Well, same drama. Always the same drama. A sigh reverberated against the empty walls of your room. You hadn’t yet had a chance to pin everything back up after painting your walls; you looked around at the freshly paint forest green and smiled to yourself. The lightning flickered through my window, illuminating the dark room.  


Your feet carried you to the kitchen; you pulled open the fridge door and bent down, eyes scanning the various food items. Yogurt, fruit, leftover pizza — nothing good. The sound of knock from the front door pulled your attention away from the fridge; you looked to the back door, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. No one ever used your back door  —  hell, you didn’t even use your back door. You shut the fridge, and moved towards the screen door, pulling the drape back to reveal who waited on the other side. 

His entire body was soaked, head to foot. His hair lay matted against the top of his head, long strands falling into his eyes which remained fixated on you. His lip had been busted open, and his eye was swelling, a dark purple already forming. “ _Oh my god_ ,” you breathed in a huff, unlocking the door hastily to pull it open, “What are you doing here?” _Looking like that_ , you wanted to add, but decided against it. 

His frame was much taller than you remembered, and a lot broader. He stood just on the inside of the door, water dripping onto the kitchen floor to form a small puddle. His boots squeaked with every shift in his stance. It had been a few months since you had last heard from him, and now you understood why. 

The tattoo, while difficult to see, stood out against the olive skin. In the reflection of the glass on the door, the identical double-headed snake was visible and glaring at you; your veins began to boil. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d stop by. Say hi.” he forced a friendly laugh, shaking the excess water out of his hair. 

“Right,” you sighed, grabbing his sleeve to pull him deeper into the house, “Come on.” You led him upstairs to your bedroom. _Thank god for the town meeting_ , you thought happily to yourself as you pushed him into your room. Your parents likely wouldn’t be home until late into the night, when you should have been sleeping. You'd have more than enough time to catch up with your former childhood friend. 

You left him briefly to retreat into the bathroom — you had a first aid kit _somewhere_. Once you had salvaged enough gauze, you slammed your bedroom door shut; you watched Sweet Pea as he shrugged out of his jacket and gingerly placed it on the back of my computer chair, his movements slow and controlled. You grimaced at the wet stain growing on the carpet, but decided against saying anything that might give him reason to leave. “Sit,” you demanded quietly, “Please.” you add quickly, gesturing to the edge of your bed. 

Sweet Pea looked at you cautiously for a moment, glancing down to the white gauze in my left hand, and the bottle of peroxide in my right.  ”You don’t need to do that.” he protested, but stilled moved to plop onto the bed regardless. “I didn’t come here for that.” 

“I don’t know why you came at all,” you responded quietly, voice hushed despite the silence in the rest of the house. “I haven’t heard from you since school started.” 

The Serpent grimaced, looking down at his bloodied hands with a sigh, “I’ve been busy.” he admitted, clenching his hands into fists. “I didn’t mean to —” 

“Save it.” you grumbled, pulling his jaw up so that you could better view the cut on his eyebrow. You unscrewed the cap on the bottle, then covered the hole with the corner of a strip of gauze and tilted the bottle to soak it, “How’d this happen, anyway?” you tired nonchalantly, pressing the wet cloth over the deep cut. Truthfully, it was quite concerning that Sweet Pea showed up looking the way he did, but you were still angry with him. 

He hissed in response, forcing himself to stay still as you worked to clear the blood from the wound. 

“Same old, same old,” he laughed dryly, letting his eyes trail over the empty walls, face falling when he noticed the frame containing a photo of the two of you was shoved into a box on your dresser. “Northside douchebag with an ego that needed to be knocked down a few pegs.” You paused briefly at the way he said ‘Northside’; like it was poison, like it was distasteful and evil. For a moment, it sounded as though he loathed the word, and everything it stood for. What it represented. 

You dropped the gauze and picked up a Q-tip, squeezing a small bit of ointment on the cut. “So, you decided beating his ass was the only solution?” you asked sourly, ensuring the band-aid placed was secure before moving onto his lip. You held his chin tightly, dabbing the swollen cut gently. “Sounds like you.” 

Sweet Pea sighed again, “Actually,” he started, swallowing his pride, “I look worse than he does.” he admitted sheepishly, looking up at you with his brown orbs. There was a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh. For years, Sweet Pea had asserted his dominance through his booming voice and his incessant need to demand attention through physical force. Hitting objects. Throwing things. Violent, aggressive behaviour in general. Never mindless violence — he never initiated anything unless he felt it were absolutely necessary, of course. But to hear that the big and bad had been ( _for a lack of better words_ ) put in his place, you couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Don’t.” he growled, ripping his chin out of my grip. 

“Alright, I’m sorry.” you amended quickly, grabbing his chin again, running your thumb over the cut gently to remove the pooling blood, “You really should get this stitched.” you noted, adding slight pressure to the gauze to stop the bleeding. 

“Can’t.” he growled, “There are .. rules.” 

“Rules that permit you from seeking medical attention?” you countered, narrowing your eyes. “Stupid rule.” The two of you sat in silence as you ( _to the best of your ability_ ) tried to clean up the cuts on his face and hands, but you couldn’t do anything for the dark red and purple ring that had already started to form around his eye. You left him to clean himself up in the bathroom, wandering off into your father's wardrobe to look for a dry change of clothes. 

When you returned, Sweet Pea stood shirtless in the center of the room, awkwardly holding his soaked shirt in his hands. 

You held out the pair of flannel sleep pants and white tee, reluctantly taking the drenched article from his fingertips. “They should fit, they’re the biggest my dad has.” you mumbled, then disappearing into the bathroom to ring the excess water out of his shirt. You heard the faint _clink!_ of metal, pulling your curiosity away from the task at hand. You looked up into the mirror — Sweet Pea’s hands worked to undo his belt, pulling at his zipper. Quickly averting your eyes, you vigorously worked to scrub the stains of mud out of his shirt, focusing your attention on the faucet. 

“Where do you want these?” Sweet Pea asked quietly, suddenly standing behind you. You took a moment to adjust to the warmth you could feel radiating off his frame; you looked up into the mirror, noticing how he looked less menacing in this light. With his hair pulled back out of his face, and his body free of leather, he _almost_ looked like he didn’t belong to a gang. For a moment, you could pretend he didn’t. 

You tilted your head to the side, gesturing to the stand-in shower, “Just drape them over the rod, I’ll get them into the dryer as soon as I’m finished.” 

Sweet Pea sat on the edge of your bed watching as you disappeared into the hallway with his clothes once they were stain free. You attempted to clean up any water that had been left in the kitchen, took your time ensuring that the dryer was set on high and then leaned against the wall just outside your bedroom door. 

It had been months since you had last seen him — you both had known what was coming for him. When you were kids, the two of you had spent a lot of time making mud pies and playing pretend. The older you got, the more curious you became about the other, and had just spent the summer consumed in each others presence; Sweet Pea would meet you at Sweetwater river and you would spend all of your time just talking. 

A week before school started, Sweet Pea and you had slept together. It was a fleeting moment — you had both been drunk, you had spent the entire summer being there for each other, but not committing to what was obvious. You had assumed that was the beginning of something bigger, something more serious. Sweet Pea stopped calling after that, and started making more excuses. 

Now, you understood why. 

His initiation into the Serpent’s solidified what could never be — you were from opposite sides of the tracks. Sweet Pea couldn’t be bothered to get caught up in a messy love triangle with you and his pride. You sighed loudly, twisting the knob on your door as you entered the room. 

He hadn’t moved. Sweet Pea looked up at you with sad eyes. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You know the police are looking for me, right?” You dropped your eyes to your feet, and nodded once. You had already considered that. It wasn’t often that Serpent’s visited the Northside — and when they did, it usually meant trouble. “I panicked. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

You pushed off of the wall, and moved to fix your computer chair, switching on the desk lamp as you hit the main lights off. “So you’re using me.” you concluded with a grim nod, moving to pull the edge of your duvet down. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You heard him grumble under his breath; you turned, arms folded, prepared for whatever excuse he were going to throw in your direction. “That’s not what that was.” 

“I have no other way to see it.” you spat, moving forward to shove him backwards against the mattress. “You literally **_dropped_ ** off the face of the fucking earth, Sweets. Your timing couldn’t have been worse.” 

He sighed, lifting his large hands to cover his face, “Nothing’s changed,” he promised, almost desperately, speaking through his fingers. “What happened wasn’t me getting what I wanted, and then leaving you. I didn’t have a choice — look at who I am.” he said finally, propping himself up on his elbows to observe you. “Look at what I represent, and then look at _you_ ,” 

“What about me?” you seethed, folding your arms. 

“You’re _literal_ perfection!” he cried, sitting upright with an exasperated motion. “I’m Southside trash with no future, no ambition. You’re gonna get into a kickass college, and meet the love of your life, and everything’s just … going to fall into place for you. The way I feel about you would only complicate that — being involved with me would get in the way of what you could have.” 

You pulled your brows together, confusion etching into all of my features. “What?” you slumped your shoulders, eyes desperately searching his face for any trace of deceit. 

You saw none. 

“You didn’t know?” he asked, clenching his hands into tight fists in his lap. “The first day back, my tattoo had already healed, and I knew I couldn’t just come and see you anymore being branded the way I was. I thought about you all day, about all the things I should’ve said when it was still easy. I thought about the things we did — how much I missed you was quite literally killing me. I don’t … know what it is. I can’t say with one hundred percent honesty, but I do know that the way I feel about you surpasses anything else I ever thought I was capable of feeling for another person.”

You chewed on your lower lip, taking a step forward to stand in between his legs. “So, you decided to cut me out instead of extending an olive branch?” you asked quietly, aimlessly moving your fingers to flatten the lifting edge of the band-aid on his brow. “I think a phone call would’ve sufficed.” 

Sweet Pea shook his head, looking down at his fists. “You deserve more than what I can give you.” he said firmly, voice dripping with absolute sincerity. He wholeheartedly believed that he couldn't offer you anything, not realizing he was already everything you wanted. 

You rested your free hand on his cheek, pulling his face back so that you could look at him. With only six inches between your faces, you could see the underlay of freckles that hid on his nose. You could see the scowl lines a little more clearly, could appreciate the warm pools of his brown eyes, softening as he was doing the same. You sat that way for a few moments, considering your next actions, analyzing each other carefully. After what felt like an eternity, Sweet Pea's thumb just _barely_ brushed against the underside of your bra. 

You hadn’t even noticed his hands had slipped under your shirt.

“Fuck it.” you breathed, lifting his chin up so that you could crash your lips against his.

* * *

Sweet Pea's reaction was immediate; he moved his mouth against yours slowly at first, taking the time to enjoy the familiarity. Once you parted your lips, once your tongue first tasted his breath, a frenzy began. His hand ran down from your waist to your ass, giving it one hard squeeze that was followed by a loud smack. You let out a soft yelp. Sweet Pea hitched your knee over his hip, and you rolled with him as he pulled you over him. You straddled his hips, rolling against him as your hands worked to roam over the hard-earned muscle he had gained over the summer. 

His hands had settled on you ass, alternating between running up and down my thighs and squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. Every once in awhile, you would allow a soft moan to slip between your mouths. Your body would ache when he would reciprocate. 

Sweet Pea broke apart from you long enough to pull your shirt over your head, forcing you to sit upright as his eyes wandered over your body hungrily. You let your hair fall around your face freely as he reached around your back, pulling the clasp on the bra undone. He slipped the straps down your shoulders, discarding the article to the side, as a satisfied smile played across his lips. His held his fingers to his lips, licked them once and then quickly ran them over your nipples. 

This caused your head fell back. 

“So fucking hot.” he growled hungrily, voice thick.

He took his time manipulating your breasts, enticing you to lose yourself in his ministrations; he leaned up once to take your nipple into his warm mouth. He alternated between gentle flicks and sucking roughly, his hand tightly grasping both breasts in his large hands. You tried very hard to contain your noises, hand pulling his head closer to your chest, drawing your nails up his back each time he bite down into the sensitive skin. 

You could feel his erection impatiently throbbing against your panties. Sweet Pea slipped his hands between your hair and neck, smashing his mouth against yours again as you slid your hand between your legs and over the flannel bottoms. Definitely thicker than you remembered. He moaned into your mouth, offering it as encouragement when you forced your fingers under the waistband, wrapping them around his shaft. You spent a few moments gently tugging before you pushed him down against the mattress and crawled backwards, your fingers pulling his bottoms down with you. 

Sweet Pea grinned down at you, arms folded behind his head, watching you carefully as you ran your tongue along his length. It jerked upwards in reaction, and you caught the tip in with your lips —  hands free —  and brought it into an upright position. You steadied his member as you licked your lips, letting your spit trail down his shaft. You used your hand to evenly distribute it, and once satisfied with the amount of self-lubrication, you locked your eyes with his, and brought him into your mouth. He pressed as deep as he could without triggering your gag reflex, hitting the back of your throat with an incredibly satisfied moan; his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back. 

“Fuck.” he breathed, the word barely audible. 

You took my time, alternating between using just your hand, just your mouth and both. Sweet Pea most definitely did not appear to be a one-minute-man, something you were thankful for, but he did seem like an impatient man. He gripped your arms tightly, and pulled you up onto the bed, then rolled you onto your back. 

Zero time was wasted: his fingers hooked around your panties — he slid them down my legs and discarded them somewhere across the room. 

Your hands eagerly pulled open the top drawer on your nightside table — you tossed him the last condom you owned, and watched as he ( _agonizingly_ ) took his time securing it in place. He locked his hands under your knees, pressed them back until they touched the mattress, and you both watched as he guided himself inside you. Your head fell against the pillow with a guttural moan, and his hips worked their tempo. 

You grabbed his face and pulled him in again, desperate to taste him, desperate to try to mask his moans and grunts. You held your own legs back now, leaving Sweet Pea to steady himself on one hand as the other moved to rub circles over your swollen lips. 

“ _Fuck_ me.” you groaned, your eyes slipping shut. 

“Do it,” he commanded, his eyes darting back and forth between your bouncing breasts and your face, “Cum.” 

You locked with his eyes, your legs trembling again, your walls tightening around his erection. You were desperate to feel it, and he was desperate to hear you fall apart. 

His thrusts were becoming inconsistent as he was nearing his edge - you replaced his hand, moving your fingers quickly as you pushed yourself over the teetering edge, and hit a hard wall of ecstacy. 

“Holy .. _fuck!_  “ you whined, your head falling back as the waves crashed over you again and again. He was riding through his orgasm, his face buried into the crook of your neck, his moans matching the volume of yours. You remained like that, your legs trembling around his frame, his hands running over your thighs as though he were trying to soothe them. You panted together in the now quiet room, your bodies slick with sweat. 

Sweet Pea lifted his head away from your neck, ceasing the kisses he was leaving long enough to give you a satisfied smile. 

“Definitely better than the first time … definitely not the last time.”  



	5. SOLD MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **SUMMARY:** the southside serpents meet the supernatural - with an ongoing prank war between friends, Sweet Pea takes it to the next level in an attempt to spook Toni.But .. wait a second, that’s not Reggie, and oh my god are those glowing red eyes?  
>  **WARNING:** cursing   
> **A/N:** well, here we are. this wasn’t really planned but I had mentioned wanting to do something like this before. amanada ( @stanclub ) and I were talking one night about it and the idea just came up. It’s short, it’s cheesy, but I hope ya’ll enjoy! feedback and love always appreciated!  <3

 

When you first heard about it, you nearly spat your drink out onto the table. It didn’t seem to matter how old you were, the incessant need to prank each other would just never die in your circle of friends. "You  _what?_ "

"I said what I said," Sweet Pea fired back, eyes focused on steadying the cue in his hand.

You snorted once, folding your arms, "Yeah, it sounded like you said you wanted to summon a ... what, now?"

"Demon."

" _Right_ ," you said slowly, staring down both boys that stood on the opposite side of the billiard table. The duo was always up to no good, and always looking for fresh meat to prey on. With an ongoing battle between Cheryl and Toni, there never seemed to be any peace between your friends.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” Fangs added as he surveyed the table. The boys had been doing only god knows what, and stumbled across an outdated website that had listed a series of rituals, mainly for summoning demons. Clearly bored and without much else to do, Sweet Pea planned on performing the summoning after midnight when the town had gone to sleep. “It’s not real, obviously, but we have a plan so you can’t say anything. It’s gonna be fun, I promise.”

* * *

 

You had tried to talk them out of it, but they weren't easily persuaded. No amount of curly fries or beers would ever satisfy them enough to keep them from picking on you and your friends. Toni's shift was coming to an end, leaving you very little time to compose one final closing pitch.

The bulky Serpent looked over at you with a slight smirk hidden behind his beer bottle; unable to contain your smile, you shot up your hand, middle finger raised and laughed. “Bite me, Fogarty.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Sweet Pea chided from behind you, “we only just got him to stop.” Fangs glared over the table at his friend, knocking his rings against the wood with a disgruntled huff. Leaving you alone with Sweet Pea, he wandered over to the bar to order another drink.

You looked around the bar, grimacing at the lack of familiar faces. “I miss the Wyrm,” you sighed, leaning against the table, “this isn’t the same. It’s been four years. When’s he gonna give it up?”

“Enough of that,” Sweet Pea scolded, poking you in the side with his pool cue. “No, it’s not the Wyrm, and no, it’s not great but,” he ran a tired hand through his raven tresses as he scanned the sea of patrons. “We adapt.”

After another hour of watching Sweet Pea hustle all of his roommates’ money, Toni approached the table with her jacket in hand, and her bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m beat,” her voice carried in a whine as she worked her palm into her shoulder to relieve tension that had built throughout the day. “Everything about this day dragged, and I’m so ready to crawl into bed.”

“As am I, _m_ _on chéri_ ,” Cheryl added with a tired wave from her seat at your usual table. Her cherry red jacket stuck out in the midst of all the deep hues and blacks, but then again, that was just who Cheryl was. A magnificently procured redheaded masterpiece, and one you had grown particularly fond of since her initial integration into your group.

Toni’s days seemed to shine a little brighter with the Cheryl’s presence; family had always been a hard and fickle thing for your friend growing up, and it was comforting to know she had found one in her long-term girlfriend.

"C'mon Toni, let's get you home."

Your feet were reluctant to move, but you made a note of the time on the clock hung above the bar on your way out. Hog Eye saluted the group as they passed. You knocked the door open with your hip, and you shoved your hands into the deep pockets of your jacket.

As annoying as they could be, Sweet Pea and Fangs were very adamant about ensuring everyone got home okay. They always travelled as a pair, and after moving in together after high school, they had designated themselves responsible for your safety. As you began your rounds, following along behind the group.

Living only a few blocks apart from each other made it easy. But you always waited until the last call before you bothered to leave... It was also starting to become a bad habit. Shivering against the bitter autumn air, you hugged your leather tightly around your frame. You had almost reached the Northside, and Sweet Pea was still conversing quietly with Cheryl. No moves had been made, and after another ten minutes, you wondered if he was going to bother going through with his prank at all.

Once the train tracks had come into view, Fogarty reached into his backpack, sharing a devious grin with Sweets. The pair looked at each other over Toni’s head, causing her to stop in her tracks immediately.

That was the thing about growing up on the Southside; everyone knew when the boys were up to something.

“Not tonight guys, seriously,” she began, face already falling in defeat. There was no fight left in her this evening. “Just take us home. I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.”

“It’ll take two minutes,” Fogarty dismissed with a comforting pat on her back; you watched Cheryl’s face twist in a series of emotions before her features settled in annoyance.

“What exactly is going to take two minutes?” the redhead interjected. “A seance?”

“Not quite,” Pea mused as he wandered towards the tracks, “but close enough.”

“You’re really gonna try to contact the dead?” she asked dubiously.

“A demon, more specifically.”

“Are you insane?” Toni shrieked, taking a step back. “You guys know how I feel about this sort of shit, don’t go messing with things you’re not supposed to.”

“Oh,  _relax_ ,” Fangs rolled his eyes.

Sweet Pea kneeled on the road to dig the hole out with his hands in the center of the crossroads that divided the Northside and the Southside. Fangs handed his friend the box; inside, there was a photograph, some soil from the graveyard, and a bone from a black cat. Whether or not the boys had been able to obtain all of the items needed for the summoning was a mystery to you, but you didn't plan on asking many questions.

That didn't matter, of course. This wasn't going to work. Boys would be boys, sure, and they would always want to have their fun. It wasn't the looming fear of  _what if_  that had you on edge, but rather the idea of what they intended to summon. What was it for? For what reason? Was there a purpose?

And what was the cost?

These were things that didn't strike you to be thoughts that came either of the boys’ minds. As they often had to rely on their survival instincts to get them out of the compromising situations they faced, you knew their curiosity would always bring them back to square one.

But again, this  _wasn't_ going to work. What they had planned originally seemed nearly pointless now.

"What now?" Cheryl boredly inquired, her face set into stone as she appraised Sweets in his rise to his feet.

"He’s supposed to be here." he replied, both slightly disappointed and aggravated. Sweet Pea looked over his shoulder to Fangs, "Did you do everything right?"

"What do you mean ' _did you do everything right_ '?" his friend replied, pulling his phone and wallet from his rear pocket to examine the set of instructions they had printed. "It's  **three** things, how complicated did you really think this was, Sweet Pea?"

You rocked back on your heels, turning to face your friend that had herself half-hidden behind Cheryl's faux fur shrug. "You’re fine," you whispered.

"Freakier shit has happened," Toni muttered in response.

"Riverdale is known for murderous fathers, not supernatural beings." you reminded in a light-hearted tone, then winced slightly and retracted, glancing up at Cheryl sheepishly, "Sorry."

"No need," she dismissed, watching the boys argue back and forth. "Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters, anyway."

"Nice one," Toni snorted with a roll of her eyes, "did you read that on a Hallmark card?"

"It was one of the quotes on my daily calendar, actually." Cheryl lamented after a moment, looking sideways at her girlfriend with a smile.

You looked away from the girls long enough to notice that the boys no longer stood alone. Perplexed, you tilted your head and turned to face them, “Hey, guys,” you called over their dispute; finally noticing the third figure, too, Cheryl gripped your hand and pulled you next to her.

Confused, Sweet Pea looked up to where the three of you stood frozen, eyes securely focused behind his frame.

“About time,” he muttered, “you’re late. What good is a prank if the delivery isn’t on time?”

“Uh,  _Sweet Pea_.”

It took another moment for it to register with Sweet Pea that the person standing in front of him was not Reggie dressed as a woman, but in fact an  _actual_ woman.

"Nope," Fangs, who had previously been standing petrified, had begun to shake his head back and forth, "Nope. No. Not today. Nu-uh. No thank you. Good- _fucking-_ bye," he retreated quickly, shouldering past your frame.

You caught his arm tightly, hauling him into your side, "This is your mess," you hissed up at him, pointing over to where Sweet Pea stood frozen two feet away from a rather tall, beautiful woman with glowing red eyes. "Fix it."

"Fix it?" Fogarty repeated, blinking in surprise. "I don't know how to fix it, it's a fucking demon!"

"What do you  ** _mean_** you don't know how to fix it? This was your idea!"

"Jeez, I'm sorry, I left my notes on exorcism at home," he growled as he ripped his arm from your grasp, looking nervously over to where his best friend stood. "And this wasn't my idea. This one's all on Sweet Pea."

"Thanks bud," Pea replied with a dry squeak from his place next to the demon.

Cheryl was the first to move, taking two slow, cautious steps towards the woman dressed in tight leather. "Do you have a name?" she asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Fangs seemed almost impressed with her boldness.

"Delilah," the woman replied.

"Okay,  _Delilah_ ," Cheryl folded her hands together, "You see, these two frog-eating ogres were trying to be funny and play a cruel joke on my sweet, innocent Antoinette. What's it going to take to get you to go away so we can get on with our evenings?"

"Go away?" the woman laughed shortly, "Sorry, sweetheart, that's not how this works."

Disgruntled, Cheryl stepped forward again, “How what works, Satan spawn?”

Delilah smiled at her words, but remained collected, “How did you figure out how to summon me?”

Fogarty was the one to speak up, still keeping his distance from Delilah next to you, “Online.”

“Uh-huh, and whose picture is it?"

"What?"

She pointed a finger to the heaping mound of dirt, "The photo in the box, who's it of?" You watched as Sweet Pea lifted his hand nervously. It was likely his graduation photo, something he usually didn’t take out of its frame. "Name your price, kid, what do you want? I haven’t got all day."

Bewildered, Sweet Pea blinked and shook his head, "Wait, you're going to grant me three wishes?" he clarified, looking over at Fangs.

"One, not three." she corrected, folding her bare arms.

“You can do that?” he asked a little breathlessly.

"I'm a crossroads demon, darling. I can make your wildest dream come true."

It was like watching a slow-motion movie; once the words had left her mouth, the wheels in Sweet Pea’s head began to reel. Giving someone that much power was a dangerous thing, that much you were sure. Even more so knowing that person was Sweet Pea. He was wild and unpredictable. Driven only by his initial and basic instincts, he was a walking timebomb.

He lowered his voice, whispering into her ear. Your friends couldn’t do much else but watch in horror, knowing this deal could only end in Delilah’s favour. She raised her hands to his face, her red eyes flashing vividly in the darkness before she brought her mouth to his, and sealed it with a kiss.

Your stomach flipped watching Sweet Pea’s body  _almost_ melt into the demon’s, then turned into Fogarty’s frame and shook your head. Your terror was mirrored in his dark hues, and he squeeze your hands reassuringly.

Nobody was able to say anything for a while. Once the dust had settled and Delilah disappeared, Sweet Pea was left standing alone on the railroad. He remained still for a few moments, collecting himself before he turned, “We should get you home.”

When he moved to retreat over into the Northside, Toni was the first to step forward, “Sweet Pea!” she called, arms lifted to cup her mouth, “What the fuck? What did you just  _do?_ ”

“You’ll see tomorrow,” he dismissed, continuing forward.

You all rushed after him.

A series of questions filled the silence; you and the girls had gone into hysterics, tugging on his arms and leather to slow his strides.

“Dude,  **stop**.” Fangs bellowed from behind you, seeming utterly confused, “You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Sweet Pea pressed his lips together firmly, watching his friend take deep inhales before he let his eyes fall to you. His posture softened, exterior slowly beginning to crumble as he turned to face the group, “It’s nothing, okay.”

“Do you know how deals like this usually end?”

“Yes, unfortunately I am aware of how deals like this end.” he grimaced at your tone.

“You should use your head more often,” Cheryl muttered, looping her arm through his, “sometimes I find it incredibly hard to believe you’re capable of great things when you do stupid things like this. And trust me when I say you’re capable of  _great_ things, Sweet Pea.”

The group stood in silence, unsure of what else that could be said. After some time, you decided to send the girls home in a taxi and allowed the boys to take you home.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

It was a lingering sensation. Something none of you could shake. The resonating thought that you had been in the presence of something dark, and that your friend had willingly sold his soul to grant his wish, left you feeling dirty and sinful in an entirely new way.

_I wonder what else exists_ , you thought to yourself. Now that pandora’s box had been opened, and the boys had been introduced to a plethora of new ideas and opportunities, you couldn’t help but worry the towering Serpent was climbing a slippery slope.

Badgering Sweet Pea about his stupidity or his mistake wouldn’t do you all any good, and his grief caused your heart to fall. You reached forward to take his hand in comfort, “You gonna tell me what you asked for?”

While you couldn’t see them, you could hear the sound of leaves crunching under your feet as you turn down onto your street. The pathway was illuminated by the yellow dim street lights, prompting the three of you to huddle closely together as you walked. Your building came into view, and after sharing a knowing look with Fangs, he waited patiently on the sidewalk as Sweet Pea escorted you to the door.

“I’m going to be the new owner of the Whyte Wyrm,” he said finally, stopping midway up the stairs. Admittedly, you were thrown off by his request. Of all the things in the world a person could ask for, you didn’t think to assume he would have chosen a dive bar.  

“You’re what?” you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

“I asked for the Wyrm back.” he repeated, watching your face carefully, “It means so much to us, and it’s the one place we had that we could call our own ... I just wanted to do something good —”

You couldn’t contain yourself; the gesture, simply too kind and done with good intentions, drove you straight into his arms. You flung your arms around his frame and hugged him tightly, nose burning as the sudden onset of emotion caused tears to well in your eyes, “You’re always good, Sweet Pea. So,  _so_  good.”


	6. SACRILEGIOUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **REQUEST:** I was wondering if you could do a story where sweets is a demon? idk maybe reader finds out or something. maybe he has a sweet spot for her.   
> **WARNINGS:** cursing, mild violence , mentions of death  
>  **A/N:** I’m not entirely sure where I planned on going with this, but I would be open to continuing and doing a part 2 if people were interested. I’d have to do a little more research on what kind of demon I wanted to use specifically, but I think this is a pretty interesting start .. lemme know whatcha think!

**** It’s been thirty-six days since I had first seen her, and she had first seen me. Not that I was counting, or anything, but just that I was cautiously much more aware of her existence as a whole. Her presence, once a quiet lull left lurking in the background, now seemed to be at the forefront of my thoughts, and her face filled my long days. Her name consistently remained on the tip of my tongue.

_You_   _like her, don’t beat around the bush._

To be frank, she terrified me.

 She wasn’t as easy as the other humans to read, and not nearly as gullible or ignorant. During a moment of weakness, she had been able to see a part of me I had been carefully hiding from the rest of the world. And at that moment, I hadn’t realized that the situation had been compromising. I had been having harmless fun, or so I thought.

 I’ve spent decades enjoying various types of music and food, dipping my toes into so many different environments and cultures, but had never felt quite so cozy than I did here in Riverdale. The Southside was nothing if not glorious, and every sadist’s dream. I had been able to find a skin that fits right, utilized what I was for a greater purpose, felt like I belonged. The Serpents embodied everything I was and stood for, and so brandishing the double-headed snake felt like nothing but second nature.

 It was a Saturday night and being twenty-three and careless; I took to the Wyrm’s neon fixtures and smokey pool tables in need of release. Whiskey and I had a longstanding friendship and mutual agreement, but I suppose it might have been the mix of Fogarty’s tequila that loosened my grip.

 But I felt good. Better than that, even, I felt satisfied.

 Being a divine spirit, immoral or otherwise, I never quite had the luxury of feeling utterly content with anything. Not in food, not in knowledge, not in sex, and certainly not in power.

  _Why else would I still be here?_

But being here, surrounded by these people, enjoying each and everything I craved all at once, it was  _exhilarating_. And, in that small moment where my realities blended and the lines blurred, I found myself stumbling out of the men’s washroom, struggling with my zipper. The heavy thrum of the bass mixed with the loud, overlapping conversations made an erratic melody in my head, but the faintest hint of despair mixed among the chaos pulled my attention away from the bar, and towards the rear exit that led to the parking lot.

Smoking had become an ugly habit, truthfully, but one that seemed to feed the insatiable monster within me. In spite of the darkness that consumed me as I ventured into the night, I was able to register the heat signatures of the duo standing across the lot. One, roughly six-foot-two, and the other much smaller.

_Oh, look. Snacks._

Naturally, I couldn’t kill one without killing the other. I certainly wasn’t overly picky with my meals but knew very well I couldn’t leave a witness - especially not one as delectable as she was.

Fixing my leather collar, my long legs carried me forward as I pinched the cherry off my cigarette and tossed it in the general direction of the butt-bucket bolted to the side of the post. The closer I ventured, the easier it was to make out what they were saying;

“Let me go!” cried the young woman, her voice not so soft given her plea.

It was met with a snort, followed by another rough shove. The chain-link fences moved against each other, and by the looks of it, if the perpetrator didn’t settle down, he was going to draw far too much attention to himself.

_Amateur_.

“You’re on my side of the tracks, bitch,” he snarls, gripping onto the front of her jacket to pin her to the fence, “I told you what’d happen if I caught you down here again.”

Fear illuminated her features, sinking into her bones. It was obvious. It could have been pitch black, and she could have been silent, I still would have been able to feel her anxiety pulsating from inside the bar. Her figure, now surrounded by a thick wavering aura, began to look smaller as she tried to pull her arms into her chest to cover herself.

_Time for some fun._

“You know,” I interjected as I stepped out from the shadows, hands steady in my pockets, “Most people don’t waste their time with pleasantries. So go ahead, show her.  _What’s gonna happen?_ ”

“Why don’t you fucking mind your business, Serpent?” the man retorted over his shoulder, not really paying me as much attention as I wanted.

My fists clenched tightly at my sides, nails digging into the flesh as the heat travels from my chest and into my face.

“That’s a big mouth for such a small person.” I replied coolly.

“Even bigger fists.” he responded, lifting his chin as his boots echoed in the empty lot. The man takes an advancing step, brown hues boring down profoundly into the mine.

I lifted my mouth at the corner, head tilting to the side, “That so? Wanna see mine?” There was a moment when the male’s body tensed in reaction to my words; he narrowed his eyes almost appearing to do a double take as I take another step forward.

“Get lost,” he spat, turning back to his victim; she looked past him to where I stood, face not painted in relief, but in terror, as my features came into the light. “This isn’t any of your business.”

It was in this moment that I could feel the slip. My eyes darkened, vision switching from straining against the darkness of the night, to crystal clear shapes and heat signatures. Perfect for hunting. My hand shot forward, gripping the man by the throat tightly; my upper lip twitched in anticipation, feeling the heat bubbling angrily in my core, screaming, aching,  ** _pleading_**  to be released.

**_Never_ ** _fucking satisfied._

Letting that feeling get the better of me, I gripped his wrists tightly in my hands, then twisted them back until I was met with deafening snaps as the cartilage and bone gave way under my strength, “On this side of the tracks,  _everything_  is  **my**  business.” I whispered into his ear, unable to contain the slight joy that graced my lips as he screamed mercilessly in my arms.

And in the next instant, he ceased to exist.

_Way to play with your food, you pig. We didn’t even have any fun._

I looked up to where the woman stood, paralyzed in fear.

_Well I mean, there’s still_ **_her_ ** _-_

I had full intentions on finishing what I had started; I picked up the lifeless body from the ground, hauling him over my shoulder as the woman took off.

There can sometimes be nothing more terrifying than the very dead of night. When night creeps in and washes away the everyday hustle and bustle of life that once filled every corner of a house, even the most confident of people can be left feeling as if something is watching them. In the silence that accompanies darkness, every last sound can appear deafening. And for some, the things that go bump in the night are the things of our nightmares.

I must have been one of hers.

“For fuck sakes,” I growled; I’d just have to enjoy him later. I knew there was no real measure of distance she could put between us that would make her safe. Her scent was left in a trail behind her, like a beaming arrow guiding me to her. Discarding the body into the dumpster just behind the bar, I wiped my hands on the back of my denim and lifted my nose to the sky.

It took me a moment, focusing on the path her scent had made, visually envisioning where exactly she was - heading west on Chopin, towards Bo’s convenience store. Within seconds, I was stretching my long legs behind her, listening to her heart erratically beating in her chest, pumping the deliciously warm life-force within her veins. She smelled sweet, almost too sweet like a heavy sugar icing that came with the pre-made store bought cakes.

We were just passing his shop doors when I grabbed hold of her by the elbow; she protested against my restraints, kicking my shin rather roughly in her attempt to evade, but alas, no such luck. I pulled her into my side, turning into the alley just behind the shop only to have her pressed against the brick.

Even in the darkness, it was easy to see the way her blood raced up into her neck and flushed her face with a lovely pink. Her eyes were wide with fear, lungs filling with air in short gasps. I loosened my hold, but did not put any more distance between us, “I’m not going to hurt you.” I uttered softly, “That was a stupid idea.” I continued once she had calmed herself enough.

“You -” she breathed, mouth pulled back into a grimace. Her eyes wandered over the length of my body, my shoulders, drinking in every last feature. She knew me, she knew who I was - or, rather, who I was supposed to be, “You killed him.”

“I did the Southside a favour.” I argued.

“You snapped his arms like they were twigs,” she replied, her eyes narrowing as she glowered up at me, “And then his neck. You picked him up like he weighs nothing -”

“To be fair, you don’t weigh very much either.”

“We’re not talking about me.”

I let my brows raise, “Can we? Talk about you?”

She paused, her heartbeat stuttering for the briefest moment. After a few seconds of deliberation, she tries to wiggle her wrists in my grasp, “Will you let me go?”

“Will you run from me?” I countered.

_What are you doing?_

She shook her head slowly, meeting my gaze with a quiet ‘I promise’ that was barely audible to the human hear. Carefully, I removed my hands from her wrists, watching as she rubbed them with a slight wince; I offered an apologetic smile, and although it was measly, she seemed a little more at ease being in control of her own body again.

“Why did you run this time?” I asked after a few moments, bringing another cigarette up to my lips, lighter flickering against the breeze.

“You were going to kill me next.” she deadpanned, taking the smoke from between my lips to inhale deeply; her shoulders seemed to relax more visibly with her next exhale.

“You’ve seen me before,” I reminded her, stealing my smoke back, “I didn’t kill you then.”

“Why not?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t. My shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, leaning my body against the brick next to hers, “I followed you home that night.” I began after a few moments, “I was going to. Kill you. In all of my decades on this earth, I’ve been very good with keeping what I am a secret, until you and your pesky camera.” She glances up at me impishly, hands disappearing into her pockets. “I sat outside of your window for hours, waiting until your mother’s Vicodin kicked in and the wine put her to sleep.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked, this time her voice a little less stable, much quieter.

_You._

Involuntarily, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I mulled over the several possible answers - all of which was true to an extent, but none that would be satisfactory, I was sure. “Why didn’t you scream?” I watched her features drop into a scowl at my words, “It’s not often people see me like that without becoming hysteric or jumping into a sort of frenzy,” she doesn’t meet my eyes this time, choosing to keep her gaze fixed on the ground as she reached for the cigarette I extended towards her.

She flinched, momentary fear replacing the ease that settled over her bones. There it was again - undeniably sweet and sickly, thundering in her chest, pumping through her veins. “Honestly? Mythological creatures fascinate me.”

I felt my brows pull together, “Do I look like a myth to you?”

“You know what I mean,” her eyes flutter in a gentle roll, inviting me to follow her as she began to drift towards the street again. “I was more concerned with getting home to figure out  _what_ you were, more than I was actually worried about you killing me.”

“That’s .. incredibly careless, actually. Are you sure you’re human?” I teased lightly as I settled into a leisurely stroll alongside her.

“Just barely.” she quipped.

“Don’t worry, me too.” I glanced sideways down at her, and winked. Immediately, her skin lit up with a soft pink. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

She shook her head once, “No, but I’ve got a thousand questions.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I had any of the answers she was looking for. I mean, of course I did, I just wasn’t sure if talking about it was going to make things worse. 

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of tires running over puddles and the wind in the trees. Riverdale had become eerily quiet, and not in a comforting way. It wasn’t until I recognized what street we had turned onto before I realized we were headed towards her home.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sweet Pea,” I replied.

“Your  _real_  name.”

“That  _is_  my real name.” I assured her; it wasn’t a total lie. That was the name I received when I had first been initiated, that was the name that stuck. It had been an odd choice, but given that I appeared far scarier than my name sounded, it made me the perfect candidate to take care of the dirty business.

Not very many people expected a six-foot-five body of muscle to come out with a pair of pliers after they’ve been told they’re sending in Sweet Pea. Truthfully, I took far more joy out of handling those situations than the others would have.

“You really expect me to call you that?”

I shrugged indifferently, “You can call me whatever you’d like. I’m not picky.” We came to a slow crawl, stopping just outside of the pathway littered with wilting flowers and weeds. The lights inside the home remained off, but the light above the door came to life as we ventured near.

She looked up at me from under her lashes, bottom lip caught between her teeth; I had seen this before. Many times. I was no stranger to body language, and I could read her loud and clear; I had been intimate with people before, and never once had it posed an issue. People, men and women alike, were incredibly needy and driven by carnal desires, making prey such as the girl before me irresistibly enticing.

But I had never, ever, been intimate with someone that  _knew_ what I was.

“How about I call you tomorrow, and take you out for breakfast since you .. took care of that guy.” she offered, holding her cellular device out. “You eat breakfast, right?

I took it from her fingertips, “I prefer my cattle live, but I suppose fried bacon will have to do.” I joked, noticing the way the corners of her mouth threatened a smile. “I look forward to hearing from you.” I mused quietly, holding the phone back out to return it to her.

“Goodnight, Sweet Pea.” she murmured, twisting the knob on her front door.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 


End file.
